All-American Rapist
by FrodoLuverNumber1
Summary: Brandon Taylor is your average twenty-year-old college student; he parties, runs track, and hangs out with friends... and he raped an unconscious woman. When Sam Rourke went to a party, she never imagined that her life would be changed forever when Brandon Taylor raped her. Olivia Benson and the Special Victim Unit are determined to get this "good kid" for what he's done.


"Hi, there, Samantha Rourke? I'm Lieutenant Olivia Benson with the Special Victims Unit. This is Detective Amanda Rollins. Is it alright if we talk with you about what happened?"

The girl in the hospital bed with bruises on her face and pine needles in her hair doesn't say anything for a while and then she eventually says, "The nurses still need to do my exam."

"That's okay. Would you like us to wait for them to do that before we talk?" Olivia asks, as gently as she can.

Samantha shrugs. "No. I can do it now."

"Alright, what's the last thing you remember about last night?" Rollins asks, taking out a pad of paper and pen.

Samantha looks at the ceiling and exhales. "Well, I remember that I went to a party with my sister Ashley because that was the only time that I would be able to see her that day. I didn't even want to go out, really, that night, but, I did because I wanted to be with Ashley. I drank. A Lot. I remember that there was a guy who kept hitting on Ashley and he made her really uncomfortable. Then I remember waking up here. That's all."

Rollins writes down on her pad what Samantha has told her. "Okay. Do you know what happened to you, Samantha?"

"You can call me Sam," the girl says, "And no, I don't. I'm guessing nothing good."

"Well, we were called because the nurses think that you were raped, Sam," Olivia says, sitting down in the chair beside the hospital bed Sam lies on.

The color drains from Sam's face and her mouth gapes in disbelief. "R-Raped?"

Olivia nods. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

The two detectives give the girl some time to absorb what has just been said. After a few seconds have passed, Sam starts to hyperventilate, her breathing becoming steadily more erratic. Tears spring to her eyes and drop down her cheeks.

"I'll go find a paper bag," Rollins says, exiting the room.

Olivia sits down on the bed beside Sam. "Shhh, it's okay." Olivia rubs her hand up and down the girl's back in a comforting way, trying to help in any way she can. "I know that this is hard, but we can get you help, alright?"

"W-What if h-he gave me an STD?!" Sam exclaims. She pales and she puts a hand to her stomach. "O-Or got me p-pregnant?"

"The nurses will do a full exam for you and see if either of those things happened," Olivia explains.

"Is h-he going to get away with this?" Sam asks. "I've heard th-that rapes that happen at campuses don't usually get prosecuted. And that the g-guys get away with it."

"I'm _not_ going to let that happen, Sam," Olivia shakes her head. "I'm going to get whoever did this to you. And I can assure you, he _will_ be prosecuted."

"How do you know?" Sam demands. "Do you even know how this person is?"

Olivia nods. "We do. Two men were walking by when it happened and they detained the man who did it."

Sam's eyes widen. "Wait, they know who it is?"

"Yes," Olivia informs her. "His name is Brandon Taylor and he's a twenty-year-old who goes to Columbia University. We have him in custody."

"So, he's in jail?"

"Policy custody, but he will be when we're through with him. The Special Victims Unit works with an amazing District Attorney, so we'll get him."

Rollins walks back into the room and hands a brown paper bag to the girl. "There, that should help."

Sam nods and breathes in and out of the paper bag, which does help to slightly calm the girl.

A blonde nurse knocks on the door. "Okay, Sam has been very cooperative with your questions, but we need to perform the exam now."

Rollins and Olivia nod and exit the room, but not before Olivia gives Sam's hand a reassuring squeeze.

In the hallway outside of Sam's room, Rollins pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "This Brandon sounds like a real winner," she says sarcastically.

"Let's hope that Finn and Carisi got to talk with the kid," Olivia says. "I mean, we have a strong case, but an actual confession would be the icing on the cake."

"So what really happened, Brandon?"

Detective Dominick "Sonny" Carisi sits in front of the twenty-year-old rapist. He says nothing in return.

"You were out drinking and you see some cute girl, so you think, 'Hey! I could get laid tonight!'?"

"No!" Brandon exclaims, breaking his silence. "I never touched that girl."

"No? You didn't?" Carisi questions.

"I don't believe this guy!" Detective Odafin Tutuola interjects. "He's just a low-life slimeball who raped that poor girl!"

"'That poor girl' was freaking wasted!" Brandon shoots back, glaring at Finn. "That's not my fault."

"Nah, a' course not!" Carisi waves a hand dismissively. "Just tell me what really happened, huh? It'll get this guy-" Carisi jabs a thumb back at Finn standing in the corner- "off your back."

Brandon takes his eyes off Finn and looks to Carisi. He sighs and relents. "Fine. Okay, so we were both wasted and we went outside-"

"Behind the dumpster?"

"-yeah. We went outside and started making out, pretty hard-core but she was really into it. So we, y'know, went further."

"How far?"

"We had sex, alright? But she said that she wanted to do it. She consented."

Finn tilts his head. "I thought you said you never touched her?"

"Well, I-I didn't want you to think I raped her."

"Yeah, and why on Earth would we think that?" Finn muses.

"Well, you know what probably happened?" Brandon ventures. "Oh, geez!"

"Enlighten us," Carisi says, struggling not to roll his eyes.

"She probably woke up the next morning and regretted it and now, oh, never mind! He raped me!"

"That's not what we're thinking," Finn replies. "And you know why? Because she was completely intoxicated and unresponsive when paramedics arrived on the scene. Because two men saw you having sex with an unconscious woman and had to rip you off of her when they intervened. Because you ran after these two men did that. Why did you run?"

"Well, because I was embarrassed!" Brandon exclaims, starting to squirm.

"Not because you had just raped a woman?"

"I want my lawyer."

Carisi cracks a smile. "Sure, kid. You're gonna' need him."

The two detectives exit the interrogation room and they peer into the room, seeing Brandon biting his fingernails and fidgeting nervously.

"I hate that kid," Carisi practically growls. "First he victim-blames, then he plays the goody-two shoes, and now he's the knight in shining armor? He's not foolin' me."

"He's not fooling me, either," ADA Rafael Barba announces, walking into the room.

"We have enough to proceed to trial, right, Counselah'?" Carisi asks, his Staten Island accent turning the "our" in "counselour" into an "a". "I mean, no confession, but we have two men who _pried_ him off a' her, the fact that she was passed out the entire time. I mean, we've got him."

"Oh, yeah, we do," Barba nods, agreeing. "I don't care who his lawyer is; we've got this in the bag."

"Even if it's Buchanan?" Finn questions.

"I hope it's Buchanan," Barba smirks. "He could be taken down a peg or two. Or ten."

"Ya' got this one, Counselah'?" Carisi asks.

"I almost guarantee it," Barba assures. "The two men who pried Brandon off Samantha will testify?"

"Oh, yeah," Finn says. "One of them was in tears when he came in he was so upset by what had happened; they'll testify."

"Perfect," Barba nods. "We'll have Samantha testify that she was knocked out when he apparently got her consent. Dig up any dirt you can find on this kid; we need to make him look more disgusting than he already does. And also, I need everything that his lawyer will use to make his defense."

"Defense? Does he have much of one?" Carisi asks.

"Well, juries are quick to blame the victim, but Samantha was completely unconscious; there's no way for the defense to say that Brandon misread her unconsciousness as consent. Juries are dumb, but they're not _that_ dumb. We've got this."

"So, what's the absolute last thing you remember, Sam?" Barba asks the nine-teen-year-old sitting in his chambers, Olivia sitting to her left.

"I remember seeing my sister waving to me and dancing with some friends of hers," Sam explains.

"Where were you?"

"In the kitchen. I was talking to some guy; it wasn't Brandon, though."

"Okay, do you remember who this boy was?" Barba asks. "If he can testify when you passed out, we can blast Brandon's claim that you consented out of the water."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember. My sister might; I waved to her so she would've seen me and the guy I was with."

"Perfect," Barba writes something down on his pad of paper. "And I need to ask; how much did you have to drink that night? I'm not blaming you for this. This was no one's fault but Brandon's, but I just need to know everything that the defense team is going to throw at me. And you."

"A lot," Sam admits. "At least five shots and maybe a beer, too. I didn't really drink all that much before this."

Barba scribbles. "Alright. That's all I need from you, I believe. Do you have any questions for me?"

Sam swallows nervously. "Do... do you think that you can win this case?"

"I _will_ win the case," Barba assures the girl. "I promise you. I'll get him."


End file.
